


Recognition

by jaimesselfishmachines



Series: Idiot Boyfriends (head over heels and in denial) [12]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Sex, the reward is sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25400860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimesselfishmachines/pseuds/jaimesselfishmachines
Summary: Four months is a long time in recovery. John thinks he deserves a reward.
Relationships: John Laurens/Hercules Mulligan
Series: Idiot Boyfriends (head over heels and in denial) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1275245
Kudos: 5





	Recognition

John lazes in Herc's lap, pushing himself up to catch his boyfriend's lips in a searing kiss. It's a lazy Sunday, soft sunlight scattering through translucent drapes in the living room. The sun's rays warm his skin gently, and John feels cradled on both sides, enmeshed in a warm embrace. 

Hercules reciprocates the affection completely, pulling John closer, bracing tan skin against his broad expanse of chest, savouring the sensation of their hearts beating in time. His left hand frames John's face as they part, quiet breaths the only thing heard within the boundaries of John's bed. 

“I love you.” John murmurs, “All of you. All the way. I know you better than anyone I've ever known.” He rolls his hips forward, movements more languid and curious, than lustful and craving. There's an easy longing in his quest for affection, soft lips caressing Herc's dark skin, sucking hickeys into the column of his neck. 

“You know I love you, John.” Hercules hums, letting his hands spread across the canvas of John's mottled back, fingers digging possessively into the discoloured skin. His lips dance over John's shoulder, teeth cheekily nipping at skin over John's collarbone. It earns him another roll of the hips from John, the soldier sinking into Herc's body, hair cascading into his face. 

Herc's hands shift to John's chest, pushing him into the comforter, planting a knee of each side of the soldier's body. John whines pitifully, the  **_want_ ** clear as day on his face, bulge digging into Herc's thigh, urging, almost as though it knows this will end with another denial. Another  _ not yet _ . Another  _ it's too soon _ . Another  _ I don't want to move too fast _ . But John doesn't know how to convince Hercules otherwise. Of just how ready he is. Of how much his body craves Hercules. Of how much time he spends in the shower, absolutely aching in the vain hope that his boyfriend will step into the hot spray, replacing John's hand with his own, bringing him to completion, letting him come undone, bodies pressed together, shielded from anything except the intense pleasure coursing through them. 

“Can't believe you're already hard, Pretty Boy.” Hercules teases, hand delving under John's vest, pinching at pink nipples which pebble under his fingertips. John's lips part with desire, letting themselves indulge in the fantasy of being fucked right here. It won't happen. It never does. As much as he lusts after it, Herc's dick is never inside him. Never nudging at the back of his throat, never filling him, deliciously stretching him to exhaustion, fucking him into a sentient puddle of butter. Hercules refuses to touch him in any way that can even be  _ construed _ as sexual. 

Not since he got out of the hospital, at least, but John still lets himself dream of his body jerking and trembling under Herc's hands, of begging and pleading for release as Hercules teases him only to the edge of orgasm, relishing the moans that would leave his lips, the insistent repetition of  _ Hercules, Herc, Herc… _ before his eyes clamp shut as he shivers and trembles and cums before he can think another thought. 

“I love you, you goof. ‘course I'm hard.” John chuckles, “What's up? You don't call me  _ Princess _ no more?” 

“I didn't think you remembered that, actually.” Hercules mutters, tongue stealing a taste of salty skin. 

“Maybe if you'd fucking  _ touch me _ , you'd know I remember just fine.” John challenges. Hercules lifts his head to stare at John's face. He takes in the narrowed eyes, the arched brow, the smirk playing at the edge of John's lips. And Hercules decides to take John up on his challenge. 

“Hmm,” Hercules hums, redirecting his energies south of the border, letting his fingers dip below the waistline of John's shorts. It only takes a second to realize what John has been hinting at. Only takes a second for Hercules to be taken off-guard. Only takes a second for John to smirk in satisfaction. 

He can feel Herc's thumbs massaging across his hip bones, sandwiched between delicate lace trim and warm pliable skin. 

“Fucking hell, Princess,” Hercules says, voice guttural and heady with need. “Why do you do this to me, huh?” and Hercules captures John's lips between his teeth, biting and sucking at too-pink lips, fingers carding through the soldier's curls, licking into John's mouth and muffling the soft moans. 

John sighs, rocking his hips upwards, pressing into Herc's crotch. He turns his head, breaking the kiss. Doesn't even bother to catch his breath before he lays another obstacle in front of the tailor’s desires. It's nothing that Hercules hasn't done in the past four months, in the mountain of refusals to satisfy his boyfriend. 

John makes a mental note to not get shot again; not because the searing pain which explodes that across his side, that paralyzes him, floors him, that leaves his uniform bloodied and caked in dirt, that confines him to a hospital bed too dizzy to recall his boyfriend's face, that forces him to think of a life without Hercules, that makes him think of the hatred on the tailor’s face, so distraught with the idea of losing John forever.

None of those things are what fuel his new sense of self-preservation. Selfishly, he thinks, it's just not worth the dry spell. 

“You're gonna have to do more than that if you wanna see em, babe.”    
Being this pent up… He'd be willing to do almost anything if it meant he could feel Herc's dick, hands, mouth anywhere in or on him. 

“Are you sure?” Hercules slows, pressing his forehead to John's, gaze settling on his boyfriend's face. 

John nods. 

“I want to hear you.” Hercules whispers, continuing before John can open his mouth to protest. “Listen to me: I don't want to rush you; I want to make sure that you want this as much as I do.”

“I've been trying to get you to fuck me for four months, and you're asking me if I want it?” John rolls his eyes. “Fuck yes, I want it. I want you inside me right now.”

Herc's eyes widen, taken aback by John's eagerness. Feels his dick agree, twitching where it lays, a heavy weight between their stomachs. And his movements take on a new sense of urgency, pawing at John's clothing, all but tearing the shorts off the soldier's legs. Hercules shifts his weight, moving so that his knees are bracketed by John's legs. He pushes up on the back of John's thighs, reaching below the pillow for condoms and the bottle of lube that John keeps on hand. 

“Don't waste any time.” John shakes his head, stopping Hercules’s movements. “I already prepped.”

“ _ Wow,”  _ Hercules can't help but picture it. Seeing John pressing fingers eagerly inside him, keening forward as he rocks his hips, moaning as he crooks his fingers, imagining his boyfriend thrusting into him, pressing against his prostate with expert aim. 

“Yeah,” John wraps his arms around Herc's neck, dragging him down to press a kiss to Herc's lips. “Don't keep me waiting. Hurry up and fuck me.”

John lifts his hips, allowing Hercules to tug at the panties covering his cock. He rucks them up for enough access, bright pink fabric rolling past John's ass. Foil wrapper in hand, Hercules rips open the package with his teeth, making light work of rolling the rubber down his erection. He lines up, checking John's expression one last time before surrendering to the warm heat, pelvis pressed flush against his boyfriend. 

John winces, fingernails digging into the back of Herc's neck. 

“Hey, hey. You with me?” Hercules soothes, thumb caressing at John's cheekbone, watching carefully for any real indication of discomfort turning to  _ pain.  _ The deterioration happens in a snap. 

“No, stop.” John grits out, face contorting in an unmistakable expression of pain. He shoves frantically at Herc's shoulders. “Stop,  _ seriously _ , it hurts like hell.” 

Hercules stills. It's always a bit too much in the beginning. “You don't want to wait, adjust?” He can feel John tense around him, and whilst he wants nothing more than to fuck into him, the anguish on John's face is more concerning than erotic. 

“Hercules…” John lets his hands drop, fisting the covers, anxiously waiting for the moment the pain will leave him. He crawls up the covers in an effort to escape. “N-no. Get off me.”

“I'm sorry,” Hercules eases himself back, pulling out slowly, trying his best not to injure John. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you--” He floods the room with apology, burying his head in John's neck, his regret illustrated in the canvas of love bruises bitten and sucked and kissed into tan skin. He can feel John tremble beneath him, and Hercules pulls him closer, mouth awash with apology. 

He's cut off by the sound of John laughing. 

“Fucking hell! Who would have thought--” John covers his mouth with his hands, whole body vibrating as his chest heaves with the force of absurdity. He somehow manages to speak between gulps of air, tears running down his cheeks as though this is the most hilarious thing ever to happen on the face of the planet. “--that taking dick w-would be harder than taking a bullet?” 

“Oh my god.” Hercules’s worry subsides, and he rolls his eyes, yanking the condom off and dropping it in the trash can. There's no way either of them is getting fucked today. “You're such an idiot.”

John beams, sitting up to steal a kiss. “And you love me anyway.”

“Yeah,” Hercules agrees, holding John like he is the most precious thing. “And I love you anyway.” 


End file.
